Say What You Mean
by cowlicklesschick
Summary: Post 3x03. Please enjoy my brain hurling itself off an angst cliff (with some fluff to cushion the fall).


_**Okay so I feel like I need to explain myself: I'm not mad at Paige, per se. But as of now, she is still with Tim even though she told Walter she loves him, and also despite the fact that Walter will remember eventually hearing those words from her. From where I stand, that is not okay. I get that she said it to save him, but it feels almost like she can't make up her mind. So here, enjoy my brain hurling itself off an angst cliff (with some fluff to cushion the fall).**_

/

Since starting his company, Walter has learned that there are good days, there are average days, and there are days where it seems like the universe _makes up things_ to go wrong.

Today was definitely one of those days.

All they were supposed to do was figure out how a drug cartel based in Alaska was smuggling their goods in right under Custom's nose. Even Sylvester was stumped on how the dimensions of the shipping containers were being measured one way, but the volume and weight were completely off. They finally discovered hidden compartments in the lining of the containers, where the drugs were stored until pick-up.

Fortunately, Scorpion beat the runners there, meaning they confiscated almost three tons of cocaine.

 _Un_ fortunately, they only beat the runners by minutes, and that made the runners angry enough to start firing their machine guns nonstop.

Still, it ended with everyone safe and in one piece – Happy snuck onto a dockyard crane and all but dropped a shipping container on top of the shooters. Drastic, but effective.

Homeland and the cops and the FBI and half a dozen other agencies showed up to make arrests and take all the credit, but for once Walter doesn't mind. Right now he's perfectly content to lean back in his seat, up front with Cabe. The others are in the back of the van, talking and laughing out of relief and that good feeling they all get when they accomplish something worthwhile.

He's already trying to decide which of his projects needs his attention first when they get back to the garage, but he's also half-listening to Happy explaining to Tim and Paige how she managed to sneak onto the crane without getting shot.

"I guess I'm still blown away that you just automatically knew how to drive it," Tim admits. "Not the first time, I know. But it's still pretty cool."

" _Happy's_ pretty cool," Paige says.

Walter would be surprised if Happy is smiling, but he knows she's pleased all the same. He grins to himself, and wonders if he should tackle that security code or the new audio enhancement software –

" – seriously wasn't that hard, all I had to do when I got in the cab was pull the large blue lever smack in the middle of the dash."

"A large blue lever?" Paige laughs.

He blinks. That's weird – he's heard that before, hasn't he? No, he doesn't think Paige has said that recently. Maybe in a dream, or –

Walter chokes on his own spit, his blood pounding in his ears and his vision actually going fuzzy around the edges.

"You okay?" Cabe looks over at him. Walter can't imagine how he looks, but for once he knows how he feels.

Mortified.

Astounded.

Saddened.

Wistful (that one is the most powerful, the _longing_ that runs through him cuts like a knife and it feels like he can hardly breathe with how badly he _wants_ ).

The van is suddenly much too small; he braces one hand on the window.

"Kid. You all right?" Cabe is leaning over, looking genuinely concerned now, and Walter can't even manage to get _fine_ past the golf ball that seems to be lodged in his throat.

"Walter?" Paige leans forward, frowns.

He closes his eyes. He truly doesn't know how much more of this he can stand. "Just tired," he finally says. "Th-that was, um. C-close call."

Paige doesn't look entirely convinced, so he tries for a smile that feels more like a grimace. She buys it, and leans back, lets herself be caught up in conversation with Tim once more.

Walter faces the front, desperate for the remaining four and a half minutes to the garage to somehow shrink to two. It feels like years later, but he doesn't wait for Cabe to even put it in park before he's closing the van door behind him. He hears Paige call after him again, but he doesn't slow down, and he's upstairs in his bathroom before the others even make it inside.

/

The next morning, Walter feels a little bit like he's walking through a minefield. He completely avoided everyone yesterday, claiming his first case since the rocket incident three weeks ago took more of a toll than he anticipated and he needed to rest. No one argued, and he spent the whole afternoon staring at the ceiling in his loft trying to piece together the jumble of sights, words, muddy phrases that have been slowly surfacing.

Why he would suddenly recall everything _now_ , he doesn't know.

But he has, and does, and it absolutely sucks, but he's determined not to let it impact the team and – most importantly – his newly patched-up relationship with Paige (Tim as well, if he's feeling mature about it).

At their normal times, the rest of the team shows up without incident, and he even manages to exchange pleasant morning greetings with Tim – without having Paige elbow either of them in the ribs.

Then Paige herself walks in, and Walter immediately wishes he could hide under his desk all day.

There's literally no guessing which parts of his ridiculous behavior she witnessed. It's definitely not the worst she's ever seen him, but now that he actually remembers it, his imagined conversation with her is playing on a constant loop in his head.

He spends the entire morning trudging through a software project that would normally take him fifteen minutes, all while studiously refusing to let his eyes wander. He's so concentrated on avoiding her gaze that he forgets to avoid her and Tim's daily meet-ups.

That turns out to be a good thing, though, because right before lunch he glances up and sees her laughing, one hand on Tim's arm and her head thrown back, and a small measure of comfort occurs to him.

Paige doesn't know what he imagined her saying to him. She very likely heard his confession, which is all kinds of awkward and not how he wanted to tell her, but at least she doesn't know what hearing those words from her did to him, despite the fact that they were imagined by his subconscious.

It's not much, but he does feel some better.

But then they gather for lunch, and Tim pulls a surprise out of the oven for Paige.

"Blueberry crumble," he says with a smile, and puts the dish in front of her.

She's exclaiming and smiling up at him, and everyone thinks it smells amazing, but Walter suddenly really wants to throw up.

He shoves his chair back from the table, unsure if it's the smell of the dessert or the sight of Paige so happy with another man – and this is _wrong_ , shouldn't he want her to be happy more than he wants her to be with him, he feels so selfish but he can't _help_ it – but he barely manages to choke out an excuse before he rushes up the stairs.

/

Three and a half hours later, and he's still nauseous.

Paige and Cabe have both been up to check on him, and he managed to look absolutely immersed in work on both occasions so they would believe his assurances of "fine, just tired from yesterday, would prefer to work in quiet for the rest of today".

But right now he can hear more footsteps coming towards his office, and he grits his teeth. _This_ is the visit he's been dreading.

"Walter, Walter, Walter…" Toby ambles in, hands shoved into his pockets and a smirk on his face that indicates he knows exactly what's going on.

"Something you need? I'm very busy…" he makes a show of typing rapidly (Toby doesn't need to know that all he has up on his computer is the google homepage).

"That you are, Walt. Busy avoiding Miss Dineen like Sylvester avoids salmonella."

Walter shoots an irritated glare across the top of his monitor. Toby is unfazed.

"I don't know why you're acting like this, honestly…it's almost like you're embarrassed about something."

He gnaws on the inside of his cheek for a moment or two , before deciding that trying to delay the inevitable will just make it worse in the long run. He sighs.

"All right. How bad was it?"

"Oh, you don't need me to answer that, Walt. You remember."

 _Ugh_.

"If you really think that then I'm shocked you haven't used my hypoxia-induced behavior as ammunition."

To his surprise, Toby suddenly drops the smug look.

"Actually, Walter, I'm just relieved you _do_ remember. With a fall like you had, I was honestly a little worried about delayed brain damage."

Walter nods. "Well, I'm fine. I'm not sure how I'm ever going to look Elias in the eye again, but other than that there's no lasting harm done." Not physically, anyway.

"I tell ya, buddy, I'm glad to hear it." Toby gets up. "I'll admit I was pretty scared after Paige got you to pull that lever and we came back to see you floating around unconscious."

Walter had also started to rise, but when Toby's words sink in, his knees give way and he falls right back down into his chair.

"Walter?"

"Wh-what….what did you say?"

Toby frowns. "You lost consciousness right before the hatch opened."

"No, before that." He clenches his fists, feels the bite of fingernails into his palms.

"Oh." Toby suddenly looks uncomfortable. "Uh…I dunno if you want me to tell you that…."

"Toby."

There's a couple of seconds where Toby won't even look at him, but then he takes a deep breath, mumbles, "screw it" and sits back down again.

"So here's what happened, Walt…"

/

Paige gathers up a few stray paperclips, humming softly while she tidies up her desk for tomorrow. She glances up and sees Tim standing by the door, scrolling on his phone while he waits for her. She smiles; it's easy, being with Tim. He's exactly the kind of man she's always imagined herself ending up with, the kind of man she once thought Drew was. He plans fun dates, some for just the two of them, some that include Ralph – who doesn't like Tim, but is at least trying for her sake – and he compliments her and doesn't have to be told to hold the door for her.

This weekend he's asked to take her and Ralph to see a new exhibit in the Performing Arts Museum. Ralph actually expressed some interest in going, to see how developments in physics led to evolving instrument construction. She's looking forward to it, and Tim is beyond relieved that Ralph is, too.

She shuts off her computer, grabs her purse, and takes no more than three steps towards the door when –

"Paige." Walter comes thundering down the stairs, swinging around the corner tightly and making a beeline for her.

Her question and smile both die on her lips when she sees the look in his eyes. Behind him, Toby follows at a much slower pace, and his expression makes her stomach tie itself in knots.

"I need to speak with you a moment, please." Walter stands just out of arm's reach, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, his chest heaving and she glances away before she accidentally looks in his eyes again.

"Walter, we were – " Tim protests.

She cuts him off. "It's fine. This won't take long." She turns, smiles. "Why don't you and Ralph go pick up some dinner and a movie? I'll text you when I'm headed home."

Tim hesitates, but slowly nods. "Okay." He leaves, and Paige catches Toby's eye again. She has to swallow the lump in her throat.

The shrink just shakes his head, eyes downcast, before he follows Tim. The door clangs shut, and then they're alone.

 _Just you and me._

She takes a deep breath, pulls herself together. One emotionally unstable person is more than enough for this conversation.

"I take it you remember what happened in the rocket?"

She hates her voice, how it sounds cool and detached. Walter recoils, like she's thrown ice water on him. He takes a deep breath too, only his sounds shaky and like control is miles away.

"Y-yes. I do. And I'd like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind answering them honestly."

Paige blinks, not sure when Walter started asking her to be honest with him.

"Of course, Walter. What do you want to know?"

He glances up at the ceiling, gathering his thoughts. "I…I know the hypoxia caused me to, uh…imagine a great deal of our conversation. But I also know that I _didn't_ imagine some parts of it, because Toby says you spoke to me, got me to pull the lever so I could be rescued. So I-I'd like to know, um…w-which parts were real."

Paige shoves aside the thought that perhaps this could end very, very badly – this is just Walter gathering facts. She can handle that. Right?

"Oh. Well, I started talking to you right when you offered me the baked Alaska dessert."

Walter's eyes lock onto hers. "And….and when did you stop?"

All of a sudden, this is no longer about facts. She swallows.

"When you pulled the lever," she whispers.

Walter inhales sharply, spinning on his heel and taking several steps away. Paige sets her purse down on her desk, and tries to follow him, but he whirls back around to face her. The look on his face makes her knees tremble.

"Paige, I…can you do me a favor?"

For one glorious, terrifying moment, she thinks he's going to ask her to repeat it. Those three words that convinced him to take her hand. She nods.

"The next time I'm in a situation like that, where the only way to save me is for you to _lie_ , and just tell me what you think I _need_ to hear…don't. Just let whatever it is happen to me, because I would honestly rather fall thousands of feet without a parachute again than live with the knowledge that I know what it's like to hear you say you love me, and to know you didn't _mean_ it."

And with that, he turns away again, grabs his keys off his desk, and storms out the door before she can even put a sentence together. The door slams behind him again, Toby's computer pings with a new email, the air conditioning kicks back on, and Paige stands there for what feels like years before she realizes she's crying.

/

Tim is waiting for her, with a glass of wine and a hug.

She feels guilty for accepting either one, but she waits until they're on the couch to start spilling her guts (Ralph texted and asked if he could go to a friend's house; normally she would say no on a school night but she doesn't know how she's going to look her son in the eye and tell him that she hurt Walter).

Because she did. She _hurt_ him, more than anyone has in a long time.

When she says as much to Tim, he doesn't reassure her that it's okay, that it was an accident or that Walter is overreacting. He just sits there while she twirls the wine glass between her fingers.

"Does this have anything to do with…whatever you guys talked about when he was up in space?"

She nods, suddenly realizing that in order to even begin fixing this mess, she'll have to hurt _another_ decent, respectable man tonight.

"I, uh. I know it was a private conversation, but would it help if you talked it out with me? Maybe I can help you figure out why he's upset."

Paige shakes her head. "I know why he's upset. He thinks I lied to him."

It takes a moment or two before her choice of phrasing hits her, and then her eyes widen and she starts to cry in earnest.

"Hey, hey," Tim soothes, runs one hand over her back. "We all say things we regret, okay? You'll figure out a way to make this right, you'll see. Just sit here, maybe go to bed early, and you two can talk it out in the morning."

She shakes her head again. "Tim, I-I don't regret anything I said." _That_ is the truth that's currently shaking her world's foundation – even more than hearing those three words come from Walter first. "And I already know how to make it right, but it means admitting I was wrong and it also means hurting you."

His brow scrunches up. "Okay…you've lost me."

"I told him I love him."

Once again, her speech betrays her – and she's not the only one who notices her use of present tense. Tim looks at her for a long moment.

"You…when he was in space?"

"He wouldn't open the hatch. He thought I was up there with him, just the two of us. And I told him he could be with me if he just pulled that stupid lever, and he said he was confused, and I didn't understand but then he was talking about how he thought I'd wait for him, and that was why he was upset when you and I…" she trails off, crying again, but Tim isn't rubbing her back now. He's leaning over his knees, staring at his hands.

"So you told him you love him," he finishes quietly, "so he'd open the hatch and survive."

"Yes. Only…only now he remembers. And he's furious with me because…"

"…he thinks you lied." Tim repeats her earlier words. He looks at her over his shoulder. "That's what you said. That means…that means you _didn't_ lie, your actions are just saying something totally different, and – Paige…" he leans back against the couch, rubbing his face. "No wonder he's angry."

"I'm sorry," she says. Her face is splotchy and her nose is full of snot and her voice sounds like she tried to eat gravel for lunch. She's miserable.

If she'd only _known_ …

Tim sits up after a moment, and takes her hand. "Paige…I need you to be completely honest with me."

She nods, no longer surprised when someone who normally trusts her has to ask for honesty.

"Do you love Walter?"

She can't hide from it now. She's already admitted the truth to save him; can she admit it to save herself?

"Yes."

It feels like an enormous weight has been lifted off her chest, but the guilt almost crushes her again when she sees the look on Tim's face.

"Tim, I…" She wants to wrap her arms around him, but she's lost that right. "I'm _sorry_."

He smiles sadly. "I know. And, truthfully, I guess I can understand why it's happened this way. But Paige…I _know_ he loves you. And as challenging as it would be, I think he could make you really happy. It's only fair to both of you to go for it."

She agrees, but… "I just wish I'd been fair to you, too."

His thumb runs across her knuckles. "I'll be all right, Paige. I might be a little scarce at the garage for a few weeks, but I'll be okay. I'll come back around when I'm ready."

Part of her wants to protest, to say that there won't be anything happening between her and Walter so it'd be perfectly safe to be there, but she pushes it down. Too long she's spent denying the possibility, just to keep herself from hoping for the reality too strongly.

Tim stands up. "I, uh….I guess I should get going." He looks down at her, smiles that sad smile again, and leans down to dust a kiss on her cheek. "Goodnight, Paige."

She sits there, listens to the front door close quietly behind him (he had every right to slam it as hard as Walter did the one at the garage). She wonders what the next day will bring, when exactly she'll have an opportunity to talk to Walter, when she'll have her chance to start regaining his trust by telling him the most important truth about her.

After the emotional afternoon, she takes her time with a bath and changing into her floppiest sweatpants and t-shirt. She contemplates dinner, even though it's a little early still, so she texts Ralph to see if he's okay and what he wants to eat. He asks if he can spend the night – he and his friend are working on a school project. She calls the other kid's dad, makes sure it's all okay and agrees to drop off clothes and toiletries. She spends a few minutes putting a bag together, and heads out.

She hurries back to her car after handing the bag to her son; she's officially hungry but right as she pulls up the contact for her favorite pizza place, an incoming call pops up on her screen.

She sighs.

"Hello, Toby."

"Okay, I'll admit that normally you are not the one at fault in these kinds of situations, so I'm a little out of my depth here. But I have to ask – what did you _do_ to him?"

She winces. Toby sounds surprised – never a good sign for the guy who reads minds for a living.

"Paige, he just now left, and he came over just after I left the garage. You two couldn't have talked for very long, but he spent every minute wearing a hole through my living room floor, refusing to talk about it."

"I can imagine." She runs one hand wearily through her hair. "Toby, I…I screwed up. I really screwed up."

"I gathered that," he says, but there's no bite of sarcasm, just concern. "I just want to know when you're going to fix it. Walt's one meltdown away from being self-destructive."

"I – " she pauses, and feels her mouth sort of just hang open.

Why did she assume she has to wait till tomorrow?

"Right now," she blurts, almost hitting herself in the face with her seatbelt in her rush. "I'm headed to the garage right now. I'll fix it, Toby. I promise."

/

Walter's fingers are starting to go numb; every keystroke is made with enough force to send the keyboard through his desk to the floor. His eyes feel grainy, but he refuses to take them off his computer screen. There's too much chance he could look up unwillingly at her desk, and see the flowers and bright sticky notes and the picture of Ralph that's in the frame Walter gave her for her birthday –

He grits his teeth, and wills himself to type faster.

The door suddenly jerks open, and he startles so badly his elbow knocks the computer mouse off the desk. He automatically reaches to catch it, but he almost drops it again when he looks up and sees Paige standing in the dim light.

"I don't want to see you."

The words are out before he can even begin to stop them, but for once…for once he doesn't care.

This woman… _played_ with him, manipulated his emotions – emotions that he still isn't used to having or acknowledging – just to bring him home. He feels exposed, raw, like she cut him open from navel to nose and looked at all his insides before sewing him back up again.

"I know," she swallows, and takes one cautious, hesitant step forward. "But I needed to correct you on something."

She's scared of him – not physically, but because he doesn't think he's ever been this angry with _her_ before. His jaw is clenched so tightly it's a wonder his teeth haven't cracked. Still, he manages to nod.

"I didn't lie."

He blinks, almost positive he's hallucinating again.

"W-what?"

"When I said I love you. That wasn't a lie." She takes a few more steps forward until he can see her face more clearly. He sees the evidence of her tears, and a knot of concern works its way into his anger.

"But…Tim, I –"

"Walter." She shakes her head, comes closer, and hesitates before lowering herself to sit across his lap. Her arms wrap around his shoulders. His own hands are clenched onto the armrests of his chair like his life depends on it. "I'm _here_. With you."

He looks up into her eyes. "Paige, I…"

"I'm so sorry, Walter." She tears up again. "I…I wanted you to come back to us, to _me_ , where you were safe. So I told you what I knew would work, what I knew would get you to pull that lever. But I meant it. I _promise_ , Walter, I meant every word."

Part of him is screaming to put his armor back on, to keep her words out and not let them sink in deep where they can settle and hurt him even more when she takes them back, tearing them away along with whatever parts of him have grown around her . But the other part of him is cautiously inching towards the glow that accepting those words will cause.

"Then why did you stay with Tim?"

She smiles sadly, looking down at her fingers playing with his shirt collar. "For the same reason it took you so long to realize you love me – I was scared."

Somehow that's never occurred to him, that exploring what they could have together is scary for her, too. He frowns, thinking.

"But you weren't going to tell me?"

She clears her throat. "Walter, I…I thought you gave up. For as long as I've known you, you've been trying so hard to connect emotionally with other people. And I could tell you were trying to learn specifically from a romantic perspective. But then you started dating Linda, and then you sent me on a romantic weekend with someone else…I thought it meant you'd decided to move on. And that hurt, but if you no longer had feelings for me then I didn't really have any grounds to be angry. So I tried to move on, too."

He takes a moment to digest that, and slowly feels his anger recede.

"I…I suppose both of us are at fault then. I'm rather surprised at the poor communication we apparently have."

She nods, looking sober but also relieved. "We'll have to work on that."

His heart thuds at the sudden implication of a future, one where he and Paige work on something other than Scorpion together. "Uh. Y-yeah, that's, um. A good g-goal to have…"

Paige smiles, gently and in the way that he suspects made him fall in love with her in the first place, and moves one of her hands to cup his face. "Good thing we work better together, huh?"

Suddenly, he remembers: _this is selfish and wrong._

She's leaning in, but he pulls away and clears his throat. "Paige, I…I can't."

She frowns. "What?"

"I-I can't be with you. Not now."

She sits upright, but doesn't leave his lap. Somewhere along the way his hands found her hips; he flexes his fingers lightly, enough so she knows he doesn't want her to move away but not so much that she can't leave if she wants to.

"W-what I mean to say is….not _yet_." He swallows. "Um, Cabe talked to me. He said I-I'm not ready yet. To be the kind of…of man you need me to be. A-and as much as I wish he wasn't – he's right. You…you d-deserve much more than I'm capable of g-giving you right now. S-so I think…I think we should wait."

Paige looks at him, long and hard, before nodding slowly. "Okay. If you think we should wait…" She smiles ruefully. "It almost seems unfair."

He chuckles. "Tell me about it." She grins at him, and starts to get up, but he stops her. At her quizzical look, he feels his ears turning red, but if they're going to work on communication they might as well start now. "I….I know we just agreed to wait, b-but I'd like to do something before…before we actually _start_ waiting."

He frowns.

"That…that sounded much more logical in my head."

She laughs quietly, and coils her arms tighter around his neck. "It's okay Walter." She's close now, so close he's beginning to lose himself in her presence. "I know exactly what you meant."

The kiss is quiet, calm after the storm of earlier today, and it feels like the sweetest balm when she gently runs her fingers through his hair. He puts on palm on the small of her back, tugs her in close, and runs his other up her leg. He loves when he gets to see her wearing sweatpants. These are soft, old and a little frayed at the hems, but he can feel her through them, warm and solid and _so_ much better than he could have ever dreamed. She tastes like sweet relief, of promises and trust and forgiveness, and for the first time in his life he's not afraid to love.

She eventually pulls away, and buries her face between his neck and shoulder. He copies her, presses a kiss to the smooth skin over her collarbone that her sloppy t-shirt exposes, and takes a moment to breathe.

"I might've imagined that up in space, but the real thing is what's _really_ out of this world."

Paige tenses, and leans back to stare at him with a flabbergasted look on her face. He blinks, coughs, scratches his ear, and wonders – _where did_ that _come from?_

She giggles, softly at first, but when his confused look persists – seriously, is turning into Toby one of the delayed side effects of prolonged hypoxia? – she erupts into full-out laughter. He grins and joins her, holding her close and savoring the fact that he's allowed to savor _this_.

"I love you, Walter." She rests her forehead against his.

He smiles.

"I love you too, Paige."

/


End file.
